


Craters

by Stu (stunudo)



Series: Craters [1]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Other, Reader is an Unsub, genderneutral reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-15 03:41:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14782953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stunudo/pseuds/Stu
Summary: This is from a genderneutral unsub's point of view. It gets dark. Bold type is present, set during Season 10 of the show.





	1. And the moon went with him.” —  Crockett Johnson

And the moon went with him.” -Crockett Johnson

  
****

**“Well, what do you want to do in there?” Morgan asked Reid as they walked from their makeshift office in the conference room.**

****

**“Y/N knows something. I’m not saying they did it, but if I can just talk to them?” Reid left his thought hang in the air.**

**“Listen, man. They are messed up, I doubt you’ll be able to get much.”**

**“I know Morgan, but I’ve got to try.” Spencer Reid’s dark curious eyes shone at his teammate. Derek Morgan nodded and stepped aside, letting the lanky man into the hallway with the local officers. One of them sauntered lazily over to the holding cell where the accomplice lay curled in on them-self in the corner.**

**“Y/N?” Spencer called to the huddled mound on the low cot. “I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, I’m with the FBI. Is it okay if I ask you some questions?”**

_May 2, 1987_

The slamming of the storm door woke me in my sleep. The house was dark except for the faint yellow glow from the buzzing tube light above the ancient gas stove. The peeling linoleum tiles stuck to my bare feet as I waddled to the backdoor. We slept with the doors and windows open, it was already too hot that year.

My tiny head could just see above the joint of the screen and the door to watch as my father’s tail lights faded down the long dirt drive way. The bugs hissed and the frogs croaked as the silence froze me in place. I woke up to a house full of sunshine, miraculously sleeping cradled in my mother’s arms. She was wearing her thin night gown with the faded pink daisies on it. The memories of the night before and their implications were too much for my five year old brain. I refused to get out of the bed, it lasted about thirty minutes until I had to pee.

Mom made us pancakes, but we didn’t have any syrup, so we just put jelly on them and ate them like sandwiches.

_December 14, 1993_

I stood in the dark alongside my classmates on the tiered risers of the old wooden stage. The curtain was down so we could barely see our own feet moving into our places. The sweater I wore itched. Mrs. Matsen the music teacher was stage-whispering about ‘Big smiles boys and girls’. The curtain went up and the collective ‘awww’ of the parents in the audience greeted us.

The spotlights were blinding, I hated being on stage with all the other kids. I closed my eyes because the lights hurt. Finally the opening chords of our song began. ‘You know Dasher…’ The fifth grade performed last, we had been cloistered in the gym before making our way to the auditorium. The three songs were over and I kept my eyes closed through it all. Becky Johns shoved me when it was time to make our way back into the crowded hallway.

“I can’t believe you, not bowing or nothing.” She mocked under her breath. 

I had forgot about the bowing, with my eyes closed I had missed the movements of my classmates. The idea that I stood alone in the second row, oblivious to my surroundings made my skin crawl. I didn’t say anything in retaliation, I just shuffled to the water fountain and waited for Mom to find me.

Mrs. Matsen had found her, they were talking in that hushed tone adults got when they thought kids weren’t paying attention enough to know they were talking about them.

“Problems come up again– we can give you some names of counselors–”

“We’re doing fine, thanks.” My mom didn’t like pity, but she was always polite. “Ready?” I nodded, not looking at either of the adults’ concerned faces.  
______________________

**The voice that woke you wasn’t the harsh taunts of the guards, but a oddly tonal version of your name. His inflection was different, it was almost pleasant, as if he wanted to talk to you. You didn’t want to wake up, it felt like days since you had slept. The cot creaked below your shifting body, you stared straight up at the soggy gray ceiling.**

**“How long do I stay here?” You asked, unsure of your charges or due process.**

**“They can hold you for forty eight hours before they charge you. Do you know why you are here?” The FBI guy stood, his hands in his pockets, the glaring light of the hallway framing him in muted silhouette.**

**You shook your head, eventually sitting, laying made you feel more exposed. “What did they say I did?” You nodded to the officers that let him into your temporary living space.**

**“My team and I profiled a pair of unsubs were responsible for the recent murders in town. When we found out about the latest victim, our first suspect happened to be your roommate.” He talked quickly and used his hands.**

**“What‘s a “N” sub?” You asked kind of annoyed. “Does that mean you have Jerry too?”**

**“An un-sub, stands for unknown subject. It is a term my unit, the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI uses for people we profile instead of suspect.” He shifted on his feet, this guy really liked to talk. “The local police and my team have yet to locate your roommate, Y/N. Do you know where he might be?”**

_April 21, 1999_

The teachers kept on going on about if kids heard threatening things to tell a teacher or principal. All the kids who wore trench coats were forced to put them in their lockers for the next few weeks. If anyone had any sort of band tee shirt on they were sent home with a note about concern for the well being of the ‘student body’. I was counting the days left in high school, only 774 more days until I could graduate.

My kind of friend, Justin was pissed about all the new rules. “Fucking fascists man, like my coat was somehow hiding a gun or some shit.”

I nodded, slightly agreeing with him as we walked home after school. Neither of us had our licenses, he couldn’t pass the road test without mouthing off to the DMV employee and I couldn’t afford to take driver’s ed.

“How long do you think they’re going to be like this?” I asked a few minutes later.

“Who knows, its all over the news. Even MTV are doing special announcements during broadcasts.”

“I just don’t get it, man. Like, how could someone kill themselves?”

“That’s what you don’t get? I don’t get how someone can PLAN on killing half of the school!”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“It sucks anyway you slice it.” I kept quiet after that, my thoughts a jumble. Justin’s house was on the other side of the old Jackson Woods. (Justin got to study abroad our junior year, when he came back he didn’t have time for the poor kid who had flunked first grade.)

_August 7, 2003_

I walked into my first shift at the Swanson’s Ridge Bar and Motel as the night desk attendant. I approached the desk with my new hair cut and not so ratty jeans. The manager worked the desk, he looked up from an enthralling round of Snake on his battered Nokia. His face formed the usual, polite amusement, that adults gave when they weren’t sure what to expect from a kid or teenager.

“You must be Y/N, the new kid?”

“Yes, sir. Where do we begin?” I said, nodding, trying to keep my eyes from darting all over the desk and meager lobby area.

I followed him around like a puppy, repeating the instructions when there were lots of steps involved. I kept wiping my hands on my thighs because it was so hot. The guest rooms had wall units, but the office and kitchen were not air conditioned. I knew I would need to bring a backpack with spare clothes at this rate.

There was a pushy guy trying to check in after bar close without any form of payment.

“Listen, man, it’s my first night. I can’t be making any exceptions.”

“Another new one, eh? What’s your name?”

“Y/N.” I scratched at my elbow, I hated being the center of attention.

“Well, Y/N, nice to meet ya. Name’s Gerald Swanson, and I’m the owner’s kid.”  
__________________________

**“I don’t know,” You were frustrated. “Maybe? Am I in trouble?”**

**“Y/N, you are sitting inside a jail cell. I think you understand that means you could be facing jail if not prison time?” Dr. Reid explained. “If you cooperate, I can talk to the DA on your behalf. Your situation could call for leniency from a judge.”**

**He was being honest, his voice had dipped and he spoke as if you were the only one he would do that for. He didn’t talk down to you like the cops or your old teachers had. You wanted to trust him, but you knew not to let him know that. You nodded.**

**“Listen, can we do this somewhere else? It’s weird with you standing and me on the bed.”**

**He pursed his lips and checked his watch, but didn’t actually look at it. “Sure, I’ll have a room set up. How do you take your coffee, Y/N?”**

**This FBI guy was going to bring you coffee too? What was going on?**

**“Got any hot chocolate?”**

**“I’ll see what I can do.”**


	2. “The moon looks upon many night flowers; the night flowers see but one moon.” —  Jean Ingelow

“The moon looks upon many night flowers; the night flowers see but one moon.”  
—

Jean Ingelow 

**You had been escorted to an interrogation room, but it felt more like an office. You didn’t have the blatant two way mirrors and chairs fixed to the floor that cop dramas taught you to expect. The officer wasn’t rough, but he also hadn’t learned to use his words. The handcuffs were cold and weighted on your wrists, you hid them below the table while you waited for the guy with the questions to return with your hot chocolate.**

**The windows in the office had half drawn blinds, allowing you to see the only the torsos of the people milling around the station. You could guess where the FBI officers were because they didn’t have on uniforms. The guy with the soft voice rounded a corner with two cups, he stacked them on top of each other to get the door, which wasn’t how you would have maneuvered. Everything about this guy caught your attention.**

**“Hey, thanks.” You nodded, still hiding the handcuffs. “I’ll, uh, let it cool down for now.”**

**He was blowing on his coffee, but he set it aside with the lid off.**

**“What can you tell me about Gerald Swanson, Y/N?”**  
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Labor Day 2003

Somehow I had started hanging out with my boss’s kid. He always needed something and I was always working. I needed the money and didn’t have a group of friends to keep up with. Jerry was a party guy and I guess that made me think that he was somehow cool. So when he came by, I tagged along.

We had been out on the lake with his dad’s pontoon boat, roasting in the last of the summer sun. He had brought beer in a cooler and some girls he met in the parking lot of the bar the night before. I couldn’t remember their names, but they smiled shyly at me. I think they thought I was special needs or something, so I minded my business and just stayed in the driver’s seat.

“Don’t you have a swimsuit, Y/N?” One of the girls asked, the one with freckles, as they both had bleached out hair.

“Uh, not really. Besides, I don’t really swim.”

“Yeah, Y/N, they’re busy with work and things. Well, a lot of things really.” Jerry winked at me, when he did that it felt like I was the only person in the entire world. The three of them, swam and drank, there was a lot of giggling. I blocked out their voices and just thought about my next shift at work. The hotel was packed for the holiday, it was going to be a mess to clean up.

Finally we dropped the girls back at the hotel and their parents just after sundown. Driving the back roads at night would have been boring, but Jerry liked to sing with the radio as he ignored the speed limit. He had a terrible voice, but somehow he always got me to smile.

November 25, 2005

The office phone was ringing and I was hopping over garbage bags littering the space between the bar and the hotel. It wasn’t an alley, but it was wide enough for a car to drive through, lined with cement.

“Swanson’s Ridge Hotel on Hwy K,” I panted into the yellowed mouthpiece.

“Y/N, you gotta come get me,” Jerry’s voice was slurred, which wasn’t anything new.

“Where are you?”

“Oconto County Sheriff’s station,” Jerry singsonged. “Listen, my dad wont bail me out anymore. Can you spot me bail money? You know I’m good for it.”

I knew he was trusting me, over everyone else he could have called to come to his rescue. I also knew I would never see a cent in repayment. I turned on the voicemail and locked up quickly. I didn’t technically have my driver’s license, but the hotel had a service truck that I was allowed to use from time to time. I double checked my map and got to the next county in less than an hour. I was checking my mirrors and kept both hands on the wheel.

“Y/N!” Jerry’s voice called out to me between fits of laughter. I rubbed my hands on my jeans and followed the officer’s instructions, filling out each form very carefully. It was twenty minutes before we were cleared to leave. I made sure to thank the sheriff, even if I couldn’t keep eye contact for long.

I let Jerry slouch on to my shoulder as we slumped out of the glass doors. He smelled like the bar’s dumpster, he was not sobering up quite yet.

“Man, Jerry, what all did you do tonight?!” I muttered as I made sure his seat belt was on.

“Can’t be sure, but I think I may have hit on a preacher’s wife or his mother.”

“Smooth.”

“Well, I have the best friend in the entire world here saving me. Can’t be too bad of a guy, eh?”

And that’s when I first felt like he truly loved me. That anyone needed me.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

**“When did he first show signs of violence?” The man kept moving his hands, it was distracting, also reminding you of the weight against your own wrists.**

**“Well, Jerry, he uh,” You were trying to be polite about it all. “He doesn’t usually mean it. Just gets pumped up when he is drinking or rolling maybe.”**

**“Y/N. There are three people dead. If Jerry could do that, we need to know.”**

**You had to keep this guy talking, you wanted to know what you could say without saying too much. Cops were serious, you always knew not to mess with cops. Cops could have taken you away from your mom and cops could put you in jail and throw away the key. You didn’t mess with people who didn’t mess with you. You kept your head down.**

**“Look, I don’t know what Jerry did. He likes to party. He is always sorry when he hurts people.”**

**“When did he hurt you, Y/N?” The man had leaned forward, his dark eyes grew inside his face.**

**“What?” You pause, confusion filling your head. “No, I didn’t tell you that.”**

**“I am trained to recognize the signs of domestic abuse, Y/N.” His voice was low, he looked over his shoulder at some people at the door. Whatever they wanted, he just shook his head.**

**“No, its not like that, though. Like, Jerry and I are friends. Sure, we’re roommates, but not like that. I’m not some battered wife.”**

**“How did he hurt you, Y/N?” He asked again, “We need to know everything we can about Jerry to figure out where he went and if he is going to hurt someone again.”**

**“He doesn’t mean to, he just gets confused sometimes. Jerry can stop. He will stop.”**

**“Where would Jerry go, with girls, Y/N?”**

**“He likes the lake, ‘suds and sun’ he always said.”**

**“Does he have a cabin or another place he would go to be alone?”**

**“He has a hunting cabin that his dad doesn’t know he still uses. But its not like, a place you can live in. No girls are going out there. You know?”**

**“What if they didn’t know that’s where they were going?” The guy’s voice speeding up. “Can you tell me where it is?”**

**You shook your head, dropping the handcuffs onto the table in frustration. You didn’t know why you were helping this guy, but he seemed like he wanted to help you. “I don’t drive, but I know its on the north edge his dad’s property?”**

**“Thank you, Y/N. I will be back later.” And then he was gone. Running out of the door and away from you. You picked up the cold liquid and began to sip it through shaking lips.**  
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

July 11, 2007

This wasn’t like the first time, Jerry was almost sober tonight and still here he was sliding his arms around me. I felt my stomach drop, he was pressing his body against me. I didn’t think he remembered. I didn’t think he meant it, but even now. Some part of him, a very firm part of him wanted what I had.

“Come on, Y/N. Don’t play with me.” Jerry whispered into my ear, it tickled but in a way that made me burn and squirm.

“Are you sure? Last time you were blind drunk.”

“Stop over thinking things. I want in. You have time to spare.”

“Okay, but no staring.” I reached behind me to release the door to my room.

“Oh I’ll look alright.”

I opened the door and let him swagger inside. He appraised the pictures on the walls as he fell on to the bed. “Damn, Y/N. If I had known this is how you go to sleep at night. I would have run the other way.”

“And now?” I asked, shrugging out of my uniform, remaining in my tank top and jeans.

“And now I can’t wait to see what we get up to next.”

Jerry was very responsive as a partner. I never really liked talking, but his moans gave me power. I was finally something. I had spent my whole life becoming this and I didn’t want to stop.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

**The raid on the cabin had been a bad lead for the whereabouts of Gerald Swanson. The BAU members were growing concerned that Spencer was missing something in his interview with the roommate.**

**“Reid?” Hotch’s voice was low. “Do you want someone else to help question Y/N?”**

**“No, Hotch. I think they are starting to open up. They are showing signs of years of abuse, if another agent just shows up all of the progress I have made will disintegrate as they put up their defenses.”**

**“We are running out of time,” Hotch looked to the local’s watchful glare. “These guys are out for blood, if we can’t give them something, substantial, we will no longer be welcome.”**

**Reid nodded as he rushed back inside to the nearly forgotten suspect in custody. The locals had put Y/N back in the holding cell as the hunting shack was searched.**

**“Hotch, trust the kid.” Morgan suggested. “I know he’s going to do everything he can to make his breakthrough.”**

**“Get Garcia to look into Y/N,” Hotch whispered. “I want something to use if they keep leading Reid in circles.”**

______________________________________________________________________________________

January 22, 2008

Half the world was in an uproar over the new president and the other half lived far away from me. I was driving down the road when I first saw her, Jerry pulled over the second her hair bounced against her winter coat. She had a flat tire, letting him take over the jack and crowbar. She waved at me in the passenger seat, I tried to mirror her enthusiasm.

She didn’t have a spare after all. Jerry drove her to the hotel to call for a tow truck, since cell service didn’t really work out here. I didn’t have to work until eight and I didn’t want to be here, with them. Jerry had her smiling as he left us in the car.

“Y’all are so nice. Thanks for helping me out.” She wasn’t from here, her voice making me antsy.

“Jerry will be right back.” I said to myself, but she nodded.

He was back too quickly. “Let’s head back. Truck will be there within the hour.” She smiled and he smiled, my stomach rolled with butterflies.

“Isn’t it back up the 41?” Her voice louder.

“Just a different way, sweetie. We have time to kill.” Jerry winked at me in the rear view mirror.


End file.
